


This Christmas (You're Someone Special)

by notcrypticbutcoy



Series: All I Want For Christmas Is You [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Emotional Abuse, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Malec, Mutual Pining, Past Magnus/Camille, i promise it's not all painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8860138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrypticbutcoy/pseuds/notcrypticbutcoy
Summary: Last Christmas, Magnus Bane had his heart broken.Again, and again, and again.And he didn't think it would be mended anytime soon. He certainly didn't think he'd be ready to let anybody in. Until a beautiful boy walks into his shop, and steals his breath with shy glances, kind words, and a fantastic coffee machine.Maybe this Christmas will be better.Or: In which Camille is awful, Ragnor and Raphael are an old married couple, and Magnus can't help but be enamoured by Alec Lightwood.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fic inspired by 'Last Christmas' by Wham! (So yeah, that means there's gonna be angst. But there's a happy ending. I promise.)
> 
> There are a lot of relationships in here that are mentioned, briefly, that I've never explored before, at all. So that was a little bit new for me.
> 
> Quick warning: there's an implied scene that can be interpreted as dub-con/non-con, in here. It's very brief, it's not heavily described, but I'll warn you, anyway. It's between Magnus and Camille.
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy, and Merry Christmas! (Or happy holidays, if you're not a Christmas person.)

 

 **Last Christmas, I gave you my heart  
** **But the very next day, you gave it away**  
 **This year, to save me from tears**  
 **I'll give it to someone special (special)**

*******

There's a boy in Magnus Bane's shop.

He's beautiful. And he looks lost, staring down at the plethora of carefully-made health and beauty products. Skin creams and perfumes and make-ups that nobody would find in a regular Target store.

Magnus follows the boy with his eyes, pale fingers dancing with uncertainty along glass cabinets and the edges of neatly arranged displays. The boy bites his lower lip, lashes dipping, and his shoulders curl in on himself.

He looks up; their eyes meet. Magnus realises he's staring, and averts his gaze away from messy black hair and enchanting eyes. Instead, he busies himself filing away references and bank statements and receipts.

After several minutes of forcing himself not to look, he lifts his eyes.

The boy - he's a man, not a boy, really, but he's young, and there's something boyish in his eyes - is still the only person in the shop. Unsurprising, really. It's icy outside. There's no snow, not yet, but the ground is frozen, slippery, and the biting chill has chased most of Brooklyn's residents back into bed for a warm Sunday morning hot chocolate, not a shopping escapade.

"Can I help?" Magnus asks, because the silence is starting to feel tense. They're both too aware of each other.

The boy - _man_ , Magnus chides himself - looks up again. His lips part a little, eyes wide. He's almost like a deer, Magnus thinks. Skittish, beautiful, long-limbed with huge brown eyes and a soft, surprised look on his face.

"I—" He clears his throat, eyes darting down to the cabinet and then back up to roam Magnus' face. "I'm looking for a gift. Isabelle– Uh, I mean, my– A Christmas present. I'm not sure what exactly I'm looking for. I saw your store, and it just looked...like her kind of thing." He finished shyly, glancing up at Magnus from beneath long eyelashes.

Magnus steps out from behind the counter, and finds himself smiling without conscious thought. It's unusual. Usually, he has to paint on his smile to persuade his customers of what to buy. This one slides on naturally.

"I'm sure we can find something," Magnus says, striding to the other side of the store. He drums bejewelled fingers against a pinewood cabinet, before he spots a necklace, deep red and shining.

"It's beautiful," the man says, following Magnus' gaze.

So Magnus removes the necklace, and finds a box. He settles the necklace against the velvet cushion, and his heart breaks a little.

The man pays, for the necklace and for a leather bracelet he says he's buying for his brother, and offers Magnus a little smile.

"Merry Christmas," Magnus says, even though it's not quite December. "I hope your Isabelle likes it."

The man's eyebrows furrow, for a mere moment, before his expression smooths over. "I'm sure she will," he says. "Happy holidays. Thank you for your help."

The smile on the man's lips is small, barely noticeable, but the joy shining in his eyes is clear.

As the bell rings with the closing of the door, Magnus feels his own smile drop away; he slumps against the counter, and lets his eyes close.

***

_"Magnus, darling," Camille says, lips stretching into a smile shining like a priceless glass palace. "I missed you."_

_Magnus leans in to kiss her. Her lips are unyielding, fingers pressing into his arm through the thick sleeve of his jacket. He can feel the stiff points of crimson red nails as she strokes snowy knuckles against his cheek._

_"How was your trip?" Magnus asks, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear._

_Camille's lips twitch. "Wonderfully dreadful," she says, eyes bright and amused. "Shall we?"_

_"Of course." He offers her a smile, but her expression doesn't change: she's still smiling from when their eyes first met through the departure gate at the airport._

_Magnus takes her suitcase, and offers her his arm—not because he doesn't think she's perfectly capable of taking care of her own affairs, but because he appreciates the closeness, and there's always room in his world for small acts of kindness._

_She lets out a tinkling laugh, like wind chimes made of icicles, and hooks her arm through his._

_"Honestly," she says, mirth in her voice. "Where are we, Victorian England?"_

_He grins at her, and leans in, to press a kiss to the side of her face. She tilts her head slightly, at the last moment, and Magnus pulls back before he can make himself look like a fool._

_"Are we going?" she asks, eyebrows arching pointedly._

_"Sorry. Yes. Let's go."_

_She kisses his cheek. "Do stop worrying, Magnus. You'll give yourself such unsightly wrinkles."_

_"I have a fantastic moisturising routine."_

_That nearly makes her laugh. "What_ is _the matter with you today?"_

_He blinks at her. "Nothing's wrong. I missed you, I suppose. I'm glad you're home."_

_She rolls her eyes, and holds onto his arm a little tighter. "Look a little happier about it, Magnus, darling."_

_Magnus' lips twitch. "I love you."_

_"Hm. Perhaps you can prove that to me in an hour or two. After all...we have a whole week to catch up on."_

***

By the time he pushes open the door to the quaint little café on the corner that he's seen many a time but never before entered, Magnus is shivering from head to toe. Snow is falling across New York, and he knows it will blanket the city and wreck havoc on his customers by tomorrow morning.

At least he can appreciate the glistening white blanket he's bound to wake up to.

A smooth, smiling voice makes Magnus glance up, the faint sensation of familiarity tugging at his brain. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees the man with the beautiful eyes and the adorable stutter from several days ago.

Except, this time, he's talking to a white-haired elderly lady with a large docile spaniel waiting at her feet, a wide smile stretching on his face, entirely sans the stutter that had enamoured Magnus.

The dog barks, perking up, tail wagging suddenly when the man walks out from behind the counter, and sets something on the floor—something edible, Magnus presumes, by the abrupt silence of the dog.

The man smiles, and scratches the dog's head when it finishes, and stares up at him with adoring eyes. Magnus has never considered himself a dog person, but he can't deny that people who are good with animals - any kind of animals - are immediately a hundred times more beautiful.

And this particular specimen of a man is exceptionally beautiful without the dog.

"Sorry," the man says, clearly noticing Magnus standing on the mat by the door. The man straightens, and his eyes widen almost imperceptibly when he takes in Magnus. Magnus is a little flattered that he's being recognised. "I, um. I didn't see you there."

"Don't worry," Magnus says, offering Alec his best smile. "Could I get a cappuccino?"

"S-sure," the man says, face flushing a deep red. He spins on his heel as the lady and her dog walk past Magnus and out of the shop, the lady wishing the man a good day.

Magnus takes the coffee gratefully when it's offered to him, and brushes his fingers against the man's fingers when he hands over the money. His name tag reads _Alec_. Short for Alexander, Magnus wonders?

"So," Magnus says, after he's taken a sip of his coffee, because there's nobody else in the café, and Alexander is lovely, "was the necklace satisfactory?"

Alec glances at him, eyebrows furrowing. "The—? Oh! Oh, yeah. Thank you. My sister will love it." He bites his lip. "You remember?"

Magnus' lips quirk up, while he internally considers the fact that the woman Alec bought the necklace for is not, as he'd assumed, his girlfriend or wife, but his sister. "I do." He holds Alec's gaze, but the other man flushes again, and averts his gaze, choosing to busy himself wiping down the countertop.

"My name's Magnus," Magnus tells him, after a moment.

"Alec."

"I know, darling." Magnus nods at Alec's chest, where his name-tag is pinned. "It says so there. Short for Alexander?"

"Y-yeah. I— Yeah."

"Well." Magnus stands up from where he'd been leaning against the counter, and slips a handful of coins in the donation box for childhood leukaemia sitting by the cash register, and slides his business card under the corner of the box. "It was nice meeting you properly, Alexander."

He winks, and strides out of the shop without waiting for Alexander's reply, heart pounding against his ribs at what he just did. Gave someone his number. He hasn't done that for...so long. Not since before. Not since before last Christmas.

And he can't help but be fearful.

*******

**Once bitten and twice shy  
I keep my distance but you still catch my eye  
Tell me baby do you recognize me?  
Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me**

*******

_"At it again, Magnus?" Camille asks, announcing her presence as she walks into their shared apartment._

_Ragnor has his nose in a book, facing away from the door. He rolls his eyes._

_Magnus looks up at Camille from where he's sprawled on the sofa, sorting through raw materials - spices and berries and bits of fern and holly and pine cones - that he can use to make Christmas garlands for his shop._

_"It's Christmas," he says, watching her drop her bags by his shoes - well, on his shoes - and strut into the living room. "Christmas brings customers. I want the shop to look festive."_

_Camille drops a kiss on his cheek. A strange smell wafts through the air towards him, and Magnus wonders whether Camille has changed her perfume again. She goes through phases._

_"Does it really need that much effort?" she asks, raising her eyebrows._

_Magnus shrugs. "I guess not."_

_"Well, then, let's put this away, and we can go out. There's—"_

_The sound of Ragnor snapping his book shut, and rising from his chair, cuts through the room, interrupting Camille. Magnus turns to look at him, and frowns._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"Home," Ragnor replies shortly. "I wouldn't want to interrupt."_

_Magnus gapes at him, and jumps up. "Why on earth do you think you're interrupting? We've got take-out coming, I—"_

_"You are apparently going on a date." Ragnor shoots him a smile that lacks sincerity. There's resignation in his eyes, deep and sad. "Have fun, my friend."_

_Camille laughs. "Oh, you're so dramatic, Magnus. Ragnor doesn't mind. Always with his nose in a book."_

_Ragnor shoots Camille a look that makes Magnus cringe. "I believe I am capable of speaking for myself, thank you."_

_"Ragnor." Magnus grabs his friend's arm. "What's wrong?"_

_Ragnor smiles at him, gently, and pats his hand. "Don't lose sight of yourself. I'll come round in a few days and make sure those garlands are all finished. We wouldn't want that shop of yours losing out on the festivities."_

_Magnus' lips part. It's always serious, when Ragnor starts speaking like that. He's grumpy, and brooding, and miserable, and Magnus is always thrown when he uses that tone of voice. Soft and gentle and...well. Like that mix between a father and a brother that Ragnor has always been to him._

_With a final squeeze to his hand, Ragnor slips out of Magnus' grasp, and strides out._

_Behind him, Camille huffs. "I don't understand your friends."_

***

Magnus heaves in a deep sigh, and then exhales, in what's become, over the last fortnight, his customary spot by the window in Taki's café. He always sits in the seat facing the counter up front, and, usually, when the midday rush has left, Alexander comes over and they talk.

It's nice. Magnus is used to going out for lunch on his own when he's working. But this is much nicer. And he's coordinated his lunch break to a little later, so he can be in Taki's when it's quieter.

" _Oh_." The surprised little exclamation pulls Magnus out of his people-watching outside, and he glances up at Alexander.

Alec has the toastie he'd ordered for lunch in hand, and his eyes are on the pile of Christmas wreaths lying on the spare chair opposite Magnus.

"They're beautiful," Alec says, setting down Magnus' lunch and turning his head to get a better look at the garlands. He gestures to them. "Can I—"?"

Magnus nods his assent with a wave of his hand. Alec picks the one lying on top up with care, eyes flitting across the evergreen fires and soft russet pine cones he'd dusted with white and silver.

"Did you make these?" Alec asks, looking at Magnus incredulously.

"I did. I do it every year."

Alec looks over his shoulder. The shop is empty, so, apparently, Alec decides he can stay to chat: he pulls up another chair, replaces the wreath, and gives Magnus his undivided attention.

"Your shop," Alec says. "How did you get into it?"

For a moment, Magnus hesitates, because that story isn't entirely happy. But he thinks about all the times Ragnor told him not to close himself off just because his heart has been broken one too many times, and he sees Alec's face, open and curious, and he decides that perhaps he can tell him. It's not like Alec's going to throw it back in his face, after all.

At least, Magnus hopes not. He likes to think that they've built up a tentative little friendship over the last couple of weeks. Alec's stopped stuttering in normal conversation. Magnus has reigned in his thoughts about his utterly delicious Alexander looks.

"It was my mother's," Magnus says, glancing down at his coffee. "She put her heart and soul into it. I never really wanted to take it over, but she died—" His voice breaks, and he clears his throat. "She died when I was twenty, and I couldn't bare to let it go. Not when it was practically all I had left of her. I was going to go into fashion design, but..." He shrugs. "I was doing a major in business and a minor in fashion design, so I finished my degree, and then I reopened the shop. Six years later, I haven't moved on. I fell in love with it. I've always liked designing things, and I suppose I've come to love designing things that aren't items of clothing, too." He paused, then added, "Although, I _am_ very fashionable, so don't suggest otherwise."

Alec lets out a soft little laugh, and, suddenly, Magnus feels fingertips resting against his. "I'm sorry," he says, and, when Magnus looks up to meet his eyes, they're filled with compassion. "That must have been hard."

"It was," Magnus admits. "I never knew my father. It was just my mother and I, when I was growing up. But I've learnt to remember the good times we had."

They're quiet for a moment. Alec goes to remove his hand; Magnus flips his own hand over and squeezes Alec's fingers gently, before he lets him go.

"What about you?" Magnus asks. "How did you find yourself in here?"

Alec lets out a startled laugh, and explains to Magnus that he's finishing his degree, still, in biochemistry, and that he does the lunchtime shift in Taki's during the week to pay the bills, as he has mostly evening, and a few morning, classes. Magnus feels himself gape at Alec when he hears what he's doing at university.

"Biochemistry?" he repeats, astounded. "Good god."

Alec laughs again, and looks a little embarrassed. "My sister's going into forensic pathology."

Magnus drops his head into his hand, and lets out a moan. "So you're all ridiculously smart."

"No." Alec's got a devilish grin on his face, the likes of which Magnus has never before seen from the usually-placid man. "No, my brother is a chef. All the smart genes went to my sister."

"And yourself," Magnus points out. "Nobody stupid does biochemistry at university."

"My brother isn't stupid, even if he does a good impression of idiocy sometimes," Alec says, the grin sliding off to be replaced with something softer. "And he is very good at making Christmas dinner." He fixes Magnus with an odd sort of piercing look. "You don't have to be a scientist to be smart."

A customer comes through the door, their arrival announced by the gust of cold wind that sweeps through the café. Alec glances over his shoulder, shoots Magnus a smile, and stands up to serve the man who's just walked in.

"Hey, Lightwood," the man says, leaning against the counter and pulling off his thick winter gloves. "How's it going?"

Alec rolls his eyes, but there's a fondness on his face as he drums his fingers against the cash machine and says, "Mocha, Simon?"

The man - Simon - nods. "Oh, you know me so well."

Turning towards the coffee machine, Alec snorts at him. "Well enough to know you're still trying to get my brother's number. Has he broken your heart yet?"

"A little more every day," Simon replies cheerfully, dropping the exact change on the counter for Alec to pick up. "Isabelle thinks your brother has got the hots for Meliorn. She was telling me when I was in here yesterday."

"I doubt it," Alec replies dryly. "Jace has the hots for himself, and himself only."

"I didn't know she and Meliorn used to be a thing."

"Oh, yeah. Before Clary came along, they were pretty serious, I think." Alec raises his gaze to look at Simon. "I'm pretty sure Meliorn is straight, if that's any consolation. Although I was pretty sure Jace was straight, and look how that turned out..."

"Your gaydar is appalling, Alec," Simon says, sighing dramatically.

Alec glares at him. "At least I didn't bet fifteen dollars that Robert Pattinson would come out as gay this year."

"He might!"

Alec fixes Simon with a withering look. "I really, really doubt it."

Magnus sits in the corner of the café, sipping his coffee between bites of his toastie, and pretends not to listen while the pair continue to banter back and forth. They know each other, it seems. Well enough that Simon knows Alec's brother and sister, and Alec's last name—two things Magnus doesn't know. Or didn't.

He can't help the uncomfortable stirring of jealousy in his stomach. Not of Simon, exactly, but of the way Simon appears to know Alec. He's a regular, and Alec's familiar with him. Magnus _likes_ Alec. More than he's liked anyone for a very long time.

And he's very, very pretty.

Magnus finishes his food, picks up his cardboard cup of coffee, and slides the garlands onto his arm to carry them across to his shop. He hasn't opened up for the day, yet, which is bad show, but he'd really needed to get the garlands finished.

He's at the door before Alec's voice reaches him.

"Are you leaving?" Alec asks, and Magnus wonders whether he's only hearing disappointment in his voice because he hopes to.

"Mm." Magnus glances back at him, and forces a smile. "I need to get back to the shop."

"Do you want a hand carrying those?" Alec asks, nodding to the vast number of garlands Magnus is carrying. He's already brought at least twenty over, and he's got another ten with him today. What can he say? They're popular, and they're great fun to make. "If you wait five minutes, Lily'll get here and take over from me, so I could help."

"It's alright," Magnus says.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." There's a little frown on Alec's face, and mild confusion in his eyes, and Magnus detests the tight feeling in his throat.

He doesn't understand why he's upset. He certainly knows it's to do with him, not anything Alec or Sherwin have done. But he needs to leave. Now.

"Goodbye, Alec."

***

_All Magnus can do is gasp, when he walks into that hospital room. He feels tears stinging at his eyes at the sight of his friend laid out, unconscious, an oxygen mask over his face and tubes connected to his chest and fingers and neck._

_"Oh, God." He blinks rapidly, willing himself not to cry. Ragnor would roll his eyes if he saw Magnus crying over him._

_The curtain is pushed back, and Magnus glances up to see Catarina, face pale, scrubs wrinkled, hair out of place. She doesn't hesitate; she pushes the curtain shut to give them privacy, then sweeps Magnus into a hug._

_"How bad is it?" he asks her, voice muffled by her shoulder._

_Catarina has known him for years. They met in high school, and she's been there for him forever. She's one of Magnus best friends._

_But Ragnor..._

_He can't remember a time he didn't know Ragnor. Ragnor is his brother, his best friend, his mentor. Ragnor was the person who helped piece him back together after his mother died, in a hospital bed much like Ragnor is now, but with her hair falling out, exhausted and sick and too tired to talk to him, let alone to battle cancer any longer._

_Catarina rubs a hand up and down Magnus' back, and he feels her swallow, because he knows she loves Ragnor too._

_"It's pretty bad," she says. "They're waiting for the result of a CT scan, but I think he's going to be heading into surgery as soon as it comes back."_

_"Fucking college boys," Magnus spits. "Driving drunk. For fuck's sake, he was on the pavement, he wasn't even crossing the road."_

_"I know." She pulls back, and brushes back the tears of anger and devastation sliding down Magnus' cheeks. "I know."_

_Ragnor is barely awake for ten minutes after he has an seven-hour emergency surgery to stop him bleeding out internally. He's enough of himself that the first thing out of his mouth is that Magnus looks terrible, and that his hair is a disaster, and the quip only sets Magnus off crying again._

_"You asshole," Magnus chokes out, gripping his hand so tightly he thinks he's probably in danger of breaking some of Ragnor's fingers. "You fucking asshole."_

_"Nice to know you care enough to call me such lovely things when I'm dying," Ragnor says, although his voice is scratchy, and it's painful to listen to him._

_"It'd do the world a favour if they lost your negativity," Magnus replies shortly._

_Ragnor cracks a smile, weak and exhausted, and lets his eyes flutter closed. "God knows why I've got you as the first person at my bedside."_

_Magnus laughs, and it hurts, so much. He's not sure whether it hurts because emotion is paralysing his muscles, or because he hasn't so much as smiled for so long that his face is stiff._

_"If I die," Ragnor says, "I want you to know that my last wish is for you to dump that bitch. You deserve so much better."_

_"She's not a bitch, you're just a grumpy old man," Magnus tells him, easing himself into the plastic chair he'd been sitting in while he'd waited for Ragnor to come out of surgery._

_"No, Magnus, she is. You're just enamoured by her assets."_

_"I'm not that shallow," he retorts. "And you're damn lucky you nearly died, so I'm too relieved you're alive to be angry with you."_

_"You're not yourself around her." Ragnor makes an odd noise, and his eyes droop. "Never mind. You'll see. Did you finish those garlands?"_

_Magnus frowns, because Ragnor's voice has suddenly slurred, and his eyes aren't focusing on anything. The machine by his bed starts beeping._

_"Yes," Magnus says, while glancing out to see a nurse and two doctors jogging towards them. Ragnor's eyelids have closed, eyes rolling, restless, beneath them, and his mouth is ajar. "Ragnor?" Fear jolts through him, and he stands up. "Ragnor?"_

_All he can do is watch, heart in his throat, stomach churning with guilt, as Ragnor's blood pressure crashes, and doctors and nurses swarm his bedside, pushing Magnus out of the way._

_"Magnus, I was just—"_

_Magnus turns to see Camille by the curtain, frozen as she stares at the scene. She turns her eyes towards Magnus. He can feel how vulnerable he is, crying, make-up ruined, a disaster personified. He's more vulnerable now than he's ever let himself be around anyone but Ragnor and Catarina._

_"Come here," Camille says, and he falls into her arms, burying his face in his shoulder as he falls apart, because his best friend is dying, and there's nothing he can do about it._

***

**[From: Unknown Number, 22:36]**

**Hey, Magnus. It's Alec. I just wanted to check you're okay. You seemed a bit off earlier.**

Magnus stares down at his phone. Alec is...texting him? He'd given Alec his number ages ago, on that card he'd slipped onto the counter, but Alec had never made any effort to contact him. Until now, apparently.

He'd assumed Alec wasn't interested, or was straight, or in a relationship, or any combination of those things. But now Alec is texting him to ask if he's okay?

He doesn't understand Alexander. But it also sends a rush of fondness through him. Which is ridiculous, considering he's barely known the man for three weeks. Even if he's seen him practically every day since they'd met in Magnus' shop.

He saves Alec's number in his phone.

**[From: Magnus, 22:37]**

**Well this is a pleasant surprise. No, I'm fine. Long day.**

**[From: Alexander Lightwood, 22:37]**

**Me too. But done now, right? It's the weekend, finally.**

Magnus smiles at that.

**[From: Magnus, 22:37]**

**That's true. You must be on Christmas break soon.**

**[From: Alexander Lightwood, 22:38]**

**I am. Have you got Christmas plans?**

**[From: Magnus, 22:38]**

**Not really. The usual. An extortionate amount of food. And spoiling my cat.**

**[From: Alexander Lightwood, 22:38]**

**You have a cat?**

It takes Magnus several minutes to track down Chairman Meow - curled up and asleep on one of Magnus' carelessly discarded coats by the sofa - and he snaps a picture of his phone, scratching his cat's head it reassurance when the Chairman wakes, startled by Magnus suddenly in his face.

"Shh, silly cat," Magnus says. The Chairman makes a plaintive meowing noise of protest, and Magnus chuckles, before attaching the photo to a text.

**[From: Alexander Lightwood, 22:42]**

**Aww. He's cute.**

Magnus isn't quite sure what it is that they talk about for the next hour. But, somehow, it's gone half past eleven, and Magnus is yawning into his pillow, stripped down to not very much at all, sprawled out on his bed, thick duvet thrown over him.

**[From: Magnus, 23:36]**

**Much as I'm enjoying this conversation, I really think I need to go to sleep now. And you probably should, too.**

**[From: Alexander Lightwood, 23:36]**

**Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't realise how late it was**

There's a blushing emoji at the end of his text, and Magnus finds it outrageously cute. Which is very unfair. Because Alexander is clearly not interested, or he'd have made to contact Magnus outside of lunchtimes at Taki's long before now.

He's straight. Or in a relationship. Or just plain not into Magnus, for any myriad of reasons. Besides which, Magnus is absolutely not trying to get a date from him. He's not trying to get a date from anyone. Not after—

**[From: Alexander Lightwood, 22:37]**

**Goodnight, Magnus :)**

Magnus moans into his pillow. _Fuck_.

**[From: Magnus, 22:37]**

**Goodnight, Alexander**

***

_"Where is he?" an angry voice says. "I want to see him!"_

_"Sir—"_

_"Don't_ sir _me!_ Dios _, I hate New York!"_

_"We just need to know who you are," soothes the kindly voice of the nurse. "And then we can let you in, okay? Just ID, and tell us who you are to Mr Fell, and you can go right on in. Alright?"_

_Magnus has heard enough. He stands up from his place by Ragnor, and heads over to the sickeningly white curtain that offers them some meagre level of privacy._

_Beyond, with his fists clenched and his jaw locked, eyes flashing with rage and indignation to cover up the fear Magnus knows is brewing behind, stands Raphael Santiago. The nurse looks over at Magnus, and bites her lip nervously._

_"We just need an ID," she says, addressing Magnus. "We need to know who's where. That's all."_

_"It's okay," Magnus says, offering her a tired smile. "Raphael is Ragnor's husband."_

_"Oh!" The nurse's face clears, and she looks back at Raphael. "Why on earth didn't you say so? Go right on in. But I still need that ID."_

_Raphael rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, and yanks out his wallet. He practically tosses the poor woman his driver's licence, still swearing in Spanish in low tones._

_"I'm sorry," Magnus tells her, as Raphael brushes past him._

_"Don't worry about it." The nurse looks sympathetic as she scribbles down Raphael's name. "Here."_

_"Thank you. Will you let Catarina Loss know that Raphael is here?"_

_"Of course."_

_When Magnus steps back inside, Raphael's cheeks are wet, and he's cursing up a storm, one hand in Ragnor's hair and the other gripping his fingers tightly._

_"_ Idiota _," Raphael whispers. "I will kill those boys. I will hunt them down, and I will make them pay."_

_Magnus collapses back into his chair, exhausted. Raphael ignores him, bending to press a kiss to Ragnor's hair._

_"Do they know when he's supposed to wake up?" Raphael asks, glancing up, the bite and sarcasm gone from his voice, instead leaving behind raw anger and shaky devastation._

_Magnus closes his eyes. "They've been weening him off the medication for a while. Soon. I don't know."_

_Raphael is quiet. Magnus cracks his eyes open, and sees Raphael watching him with pursed lips. He opens his mouth to speak, but the curtain is yanked back, and heels clip across the floor._

_"Magnus," Camille simpers, reaching over to touch his arm. "How are you doing, baby?"_

_Raphael stares at her, eyes freezing as he tracks her across the room. Camille kisses Magnus' cheek, brushing hair back from his forehead, and Magnus wonders, distantly, whether Raphael is going to murder his girlfriend. He certainly looks like he might._

_"Get out," Raphael snaps at her, abruptly._

_Camille looks up, flicking blonde hair over her shoulder. "Pardon me?"_

_"I said get out. Ragnor wouldn't want you here, and I most certainly don't want you here, so get out."_

_"I have every right to be here. Magnus—"_

_"No." Raphael stands up. "Dios, I do not care. I do not care about your drama, or Magnus'. My husband has been on the verge of death for three days, and I will not sit here listening to your snide commentary about our marriage for the hundredth time. So leave."_

_Magnus wonders whether he should be defending Camille. She's his girlfriend. He loves her. But he finds that he doesn't really have the energy to do much but sit there and stare at Ragnor's lifeless face._

***

"Can I ask you something?"

Alec looks up from where he's refilling the coffee machine, eyebrows raising, and inclines his head. "Of course. Go ahead."

"You've always got this." Magnus taps on the donations box that sits on the counter by the cash register in Taki's. "And I've seen you emptying it and dealing with it all, so I know you're involved in this. Why leukaemia?"

Alec moves from behind the counter so he can stand opposite Magnus; he exhales, shoulders slumping a little, and says, "You're right. I begged my boss to let me put it in." He fiddles with the edge of his shirt, avoiding Magnus' gaze, before he looks up. "My little brother has leukaemia."

Magnus inhales sharply. "Oh, god, Alexander, I'm so sorry."

"No." Alec shakes his head, a small smile devoid of sincerity forming on his lips. "No, it's— God, what am I saying?" He laughs a little, self-deprecatingly, and sighs. "It's not okay. It's horrible. But he's so... He's so good about it. He's nine years old, and he goes to the hospital, and puts up with chemo, and he—" Alec makes a small noise in the back of his throat, and closes his eyes. His voice is tight when he speaks. "He's been going to for two years, now. More than. But he was supposed to be done, this Christmas, he was supposed to be finished and free to be a normal kid again, but he relapsed over summer, and it got worse, and—"

Alec turns away abruptly. His shoulders shake, and he's trembling, and Magnus' heart aches, because he knows, he knows how it feels to see someone beloved sick, and possibly dying, and he knows how awful it is to feel so powerless.

"Alexander." Magnus touches Alec's arm lightly.

"What if this is my last Christmas with my little brother, Magnus?"

"Don't say that." Magnus takes half a step closer. "Don't think that."

"But what if it's true?"

"You can't possibly know what's going to happen. But leukaemia survival rates are good, right?"

"He's my brother," Alec whispers.

"I know, darling."

Alec glances over his shoulder at Magnus. His eyes are glossy with tears unshed, and he looks lost, and it's all Magnus can do to pull him into a hug and pray he's not being too forward, because what else can he possibly do when presented with an expression like that?

But Alec's breath only hitches, and his face tucks into Magnus' shoulder, and Magnus lets the warmth of the embrace between them thaw away at the frozen cracks in his heart, which not even the heat of a New York summer has been able to melt.

***

_It's never the same. Not after Raphael ordered Camille out, and humiliated her, and refused to let her anywhere near Ragnor once he'd awoken, and then later when he was well enough to return home._

_"I love you," Camille says, with her long pale legs across Magnus' lap in bed, clad in a scanty, silky piece of lingerie than slides through Magnus' fingers when he fiddles with it. "I really don't understand why your friends don't see that."_

_"Raphael is just overprotective," Magnus murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "And Ragnor..."_

_He trails off. Ragnor, what, exactly? Because he doesn't understand, either. He doesn't understand why Ragnor hates Camille so much, in a way he's never hated any of his previous relationships. Oh, he's had reservations, and he's been snooty, and he's rolled his eyes, but not like this._

_He shakes his head. "I love you too," he tells her, instead, because he's too tired to think about it._

_"Mm." Her eyes are glinting, suddenly, and she rolls them over so she's straddling Magnus' hips, hands on his chest. She lowers her lips to his, and whispers, "I don't believe you."_

_Magnus huffs out a laugh, and kisses her, once. "I have to get up early to open up the shop. It's late already."_

_"We can be quick," she says, already trailing her hands down his chest to the apex of his thighs._

_"When are we ever quick?"_

_"So you don't love me?" She pouts at him, fingertips running up and down teasingly._

_Magnus groans. "Camille."_

_"Maybe I should just take my things and leave..."_

_He stares at her. "Are you joking?"_

_She quirks an eyebrow, dragging her fingers lower. He clenches his hands into fists to prevent himself grabbing her wrists and moving her hands away. "I don't know. Am I?"_

_Then she lets out a long laugh, throwing her head back. "Oh, Magnus," she says. "So foolish. Of course I'm joking. Now..." She lowers her voice to a purr. "Where were we?"_

***

Magnus knows he's fucked.

He knows it when Alexander walks into his shop, searching for something to buy his mother, and Magnus can barely keep up with the conversation because he's too busy staring.

He knows it when he receives a text a mere moment before he's about to go to bed, and opens it immediately, to find a photograph of a rack of glittery nail varnishes that Alec has clearly taken himself, with the caption 'Saw these and thought of you. Goodnight :)' — which makes him grin full-out for several minutes, heart thumping double-time.

He knows it when he sits in Taki's, ranting about the most awful customer he's had for years, and Alexander sits there, nodding and listening and sympathetic, interjecting with comments full of indignation on Magnus' behalf.

He knows it when Alec presses a shy kiss to his cheek when Magnus leaves the café one day, and whispers _Merry Christmas_ , because Magnus is closing his shop for the holidays the next day, and it's likely to be the last lunch Magnus spends in Taki's until the New Year.

The fleeting touch of Alec's lips makes goosebumps rise across his body, and his cheek warm, and his stomach lurch.

"Remind me what you said your plans for Christmas are?" Alec asks him, over the phone, three days before Christmas, because they'd been texting, and Magnus had decided to just call Alec before his fingers fell off. "Other than eating lots and spoiling your cat?"

Magnus is in the kitchen, clearing away the remains of his dinner, and it takes him a moment to respond. Because that had been a tiny part of a fairly inconsequential conversation, full of little tidbits of nonsense, weeks and weeks ago. And Alec remembers.

Alec remembers lots of things Magnus mentions in passing. He remembers the name of his cat, and he remembers the things Magnus has said about his time at university, and he remembers that Magnus likes every food under the sun but hates pineapple on pizza, and he just _remembers_.

And it makes Magnus' heart thud each time he does. Because god, he can't have known Alec for much more than a month, but it feels like they've known each other forever.

"Those are my plans for Christmas," Magnus manages at last.

Alec lets out a little laugh. Magnus' heart twists.

"Yeah, but who're you spending Christmas with?"

"Chairman Meow," Magnus replies, trying for a joking tone.

But Alec is silent, and Magnus' heart punches against his ribs at the pregnant pause in conversation.

"Do you mean you're spending Christmas alone?" Alec asks, eventually, astonishment in his voice. "What about your friends? Ragnor and Catarina and- and-"

"Raphael whisked Ragnor off for some disappointingly unromantic getaway last week," Magnus says. "And Catarina is working the Christmas Day shift this year. She's a nurse. I don't know whether I've mentioned that. She's married to her job."

Alec doesn't seem to be taken in my Magnus' lighthearted comments. "You can't spend Christmas alone."

"My cat does not constitute as alone."

" _Magnus_."

Magnus waves a hand dismissively. "It's fine, Alexander."

There's another pause. Magnus can hear Alec's breaths on the other end of the line as he rubs his thumb and index finger together, glancing around the kitchen. The Chairman is curled up on the end of the sofa, head resting on his paws, watching Magnus with judgemental eyes.

"You could come to lunch," Alec says, abruptly. "With my family."

Magnus startles. "Pardon?"

"You could—" Alec clears his throat. "You— Never mind."

"I'd love to," Magnus says, and he's surprised to find that that's the truth. "But are you sure I wouldn't be...intruding? I've never met any of your family."

"No." There's a smile in Alec's voice. "But I have a feeling they'll like you."

*******

**I wrapped it up and sent it  
With a note saying "I Love You" I meant it  
Now I know what a fool I've been  
But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again**

*******

_Magnus is cursing himself as he runs through the falling snow that will doubtless turn into a blizzard, down the street leading to his apartment. How on earth did he manage to forget his keys and his umbrella? He hopes Camille is home. If not, he's going to be freezing and drenched by the time he gets inside in the warm._

_He keys in the code to unlock the door to the foyer, jogs up the rickety stairs, and raps sharply on the front door to his apartment. There are voices inside, and Magnus almost sighs in relief. He's shivering already._

_"Be quick," he hears Camille saying, a girlish laugh in her voice. "I'm waiting."_

_He frowns. Who the hell is she with?_

_The door swings open. Magnus' jaw slackens. A tall man with no shirt on and a bright hickey on his neck raises his eyebrows, and looks Magnus up and down. "Yes?" he asks, and Magnus can practically hear the judgement dripping from his lips._

_"I believe there's been some mistake," Magnus says, smiling coldly. "I live here. Unless I'm much mistaken, you do not."_

_"Oh!" Camille appears at the man's shoulder. The man slips an arm around her waist, and Magnus' stomach drops through the floor. "Magnus!"_

_"What's going on, Camille?" the guy asks._

_Camille ignores him. "Oh, no, Magnus, don't be upset." She lets out a little laugh that makes Magnus want to slap her._

_The guy's eyebrows furrow, and he looks between Magnus and Camille. "Is he your boyfriend?"_

_"Yes," Magnus says, through gritted teeth. "So get the fuck out of my apartment."_

_"I'm sorry, man. I didn't know."_

_Magnus closes his eyes. "Get out."_

_Camille's fingers brush his cheek, and cold lips touch his. "Magnus," she murmurs, "come in, baby, let's talk about this."_

_"No," he replies, voice so much steadier than his fracturing, bleeding heart. "Let's not."_

_"You don't mean that," she whispers. "Come on. You love me."_

_"Clearly, you don't love me."_

_Camille huffs out a breath against his cheek, and he opens his eyes to look at her._

_"Of course I do. But come, now," she says. "Did you really think I'm a monogamous sort of person? When did we discuss being exclusive?"_

_"I don't know," Magnus snaps at her. "Maybe when I asked whether I could consider you my girlfriend, and you said yes?"_

_"Girlfriend, boyfriend..." Camille waves her fingers. "What does it mean, really?"_

_Oh, good god, he's been such a fool. Ragnor's been right, all this time. Camille has been playing him. She doesn't love him—or, at least, not like he loves her. The microaggressions, the slick and deadly words, the manipulative behaviours Raphael kept accusing her of..._

_"It means," Magnus says, voice frigid, "that we're done, and you can get the fuck out of my life. Starting by getting your things and leaving my house. Now."_

_Magnus doesn't break. He doesn't shed a tear. Not until he's sees the present he'd spent hours picking out, which he'd been planning on giving Camille tomorrow, on a warm, cozy Christmas morning. The Christmas that would be their second together._

_Only then does he break, and release every emotion welling inside him. Only then does he let tears slide down his face and ruin his make-up. Only then does he muffle screams into his knees, and let fingers tear at his hair and dig into his scalp._

_Only then does he let Camille break his heart._

***

Magnus is nervous, when he knocks on the Lightwoods' front door. Alec had texted him his parents' address the previous morning, having assured him that his family were more than happy to welcome him in for a Christmas lunch.

Something in him feels like this is a terrible idea. Because he knows. He wants to deny it, but deep down, he _knows_ how gone he is for Alec—which is ridiculous, considering how short a time they've really known each other for.

And, though Alec has never mentioned a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, there's a small part of Magnus that is terrified he'll walk in and spend the day watching Alec exchanging sweet touches with someone.

More of him, however, is scared that he'll be dragged even closer to the point of no return, today; that by the time he curls up in bed, his infatuation with Alec might have blossomed into something deeper.

Something still equally unrequited as his crush is, now.

The door swings open, and Alec stands on the other side. He's smiling, and he looks beautiful. He's not in his Taki's uniform of a brown polo shirt and black slacks. He's wearing jeans - black, and tight enough to accent his ass (not that Magnus is looking) - and a Christmas jumper that's clearly well-worn.

But, frankly, he could be dressed in a burlap sack, and Magnus would still think he looks beautiful. He's gorgeous. And he's even more gorgeous with that wide grin on his face, hair messy and in utter disarray, eyes shining with festive spirit.

Inside the house, behind him, Magnus is vaguely aware of Christmas music playing, and the smell of roast turkey, and the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree. But he's struggling to look away from Alexander.

"Hi," Alec says, smile stretching impossibly wider.

Magnus feels his lips part a little, and he can't help but return Alec's jubilant expression. "Hi, yourself."

"You made it. Come in." Alec steps aside to let Magnus into the house.

Magnus is assaulted by warmth seeping through his jacket, making him shiver. It's cold outside, and inside is so...cozy. Homely. It's _nice_. And the house looks lovely, with handmade paper snowflakes glistening at intervals along the banisters, sprees of holly balanced in crevices, and the overwhelming wonder of Christmas that can't quite be described.

"Here," Alec says, helping Magnus out of his jacket. Magnus barely has time to be surprised, before Alec is smiling at him again, and god, that smile is making Magnus breathless. Literally. "I should warn you, my family...they're a little bit crazy. In a good way. Mostly."

"I'm used to crazy," Magnus replies, slipping off his boots as he speaks, and, honestly, he's proud of himself for sounding so together. "My friends are insane."

"Want to go in, then?"

Magnus agrees, and follows Alec down the corridor into the spacious living room he could just see into from the front door.

Heads swivel towards them as they enter, and Magnus feels just a touch uncomfortable. Not that he lets it show. He stands tall beside Alec, as Alec introduces him.

A stunning woman with long black hair and a smile much like Alec's stands from where she'd been draped over a red-headed woman with paint all over her fingers, and extends her hand for Magnus to shake.

"I'm Isabelle," she says. "I'm this idiot's sister. You must be the man my brother can't shut up about."

Magnus takes her hand with a laugh, and shoots Alec a look out of the corner of his eye. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Isabelle grins. "Smooth. I'm taken, though."

Magnus glances behind her to the red-headed girl, who waves pointedly. "By me," she says. "Hi. I'm Clary."

And so Magnus spends the next few minutes being introduced to Alec's family: his brothers, Jace and Max, and his parents, Maryse and Robert, who seem a little taken aback by his appearance, but are perfectly polite nevertheless, and Simon, whom Magnus recognises as a regular at Taki's. He's not quite sure where Simon fits into this mix of family, because he seems to fit in everywhere. He does, however, recall the conversation he'd had with Alec in Taki's, and pays particular attention when Simon sits down beside Jace, just a smidge closer than absolutely necessary.

Lunch is...astonishingly lovely. He's seated between Alec and Isabelle, opposite Maryse. He's interrogated by the whole family, about his job, and about his shop, and about himself and who, exactly, he is.

When Maryse asks about his own family, curiosity a little too prominent in her voice, Alec intervenes with a snide remark to Jace about something entirely unrelated that Magnus doesn't really understand. But it makes the blonde boy flush, and Clary choke, and Magnus makes a mental note to ask Alec about it later.

Down the other end of the table, Magnus feels Max staring at him throughout their meal. During a pause in conversation, Isabelle says, pointedly, "Are you alright, Max?"

He blinks, and looks over at her. "What? Yeah. Of course."

She raises her eyebrows at him.

"It's just—" Max glances back at Magnus. "Your hair is _really_ pretty."

Maryse stares at Max like she's never seen him before. Beside him, Alec smothers a choking laugh with the back of his hand—at his mother's expression, Magnus thinks, not at Max.

"Thank you," Magnus says, with a smile. It's possible he put extra effort into his hair, today. It's also possible that he hasn't done blonde highlights in his hair for ages, but that he thought a special occasion like meeting Alexander's family called for something new.

"And your make-up's really nice," Max continues.

At that, Isabelle interjects. "He's right. What eyeliner brand do you use?"

Magnus glances over at Robert and Maryse, in case they appear uncomfortable with the conversation, because while normally he has an inordinate amount of fun making old-fashioned morons cringe, he doesn't want to ruin the day for Alec's family. But they're merely sitting back, watching the proceedings with some amusement.

And so Christmas lunch with the Lightwoods is filled with laughter, and teasing, and the warm, steady presence of Alec beside him.

*******

**A face on a lover with a fire in his heart  
A man undercover but you tore him apart  
Maybe next year,  
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special  
Who'll give me something in return  
I'll give it to someone, hold my heart and watch it burn**

*******

_Ragnor still looks sick._

_It's been a fortnight since he'd been allowed home, and Raphael is still watching his every move like a hawk, unwilling to let him out of his sight for more than a moment._

_It's Christmas Day, and Magnus' best friend looks ill, because a bunch of stupid college kids had been so drunk they couldn't drive straight._

_But, when Magnus lowers himself onto the sofa beside Ragnor after the four of them had stuffed themselves full with food, Ragnor's hand rests on his, and he offers Magnus a gentle smile._

_"I told you so," Ragnor tells him._

_Magnus snorts. "Shut up."_

_"Why would I? My advice is clearly omniscient and infallible."_

_"I'm not sure advice can be omniscient, Ragnor."_

_"Of course it can," Ragnor retorts._

_"If you say so, old man."_

_Ragnor rolls his eyes. "I'm five years older than you."_

_"Enough that you've got grey hairs and I haven't."_

_"Grey hairs caused by running after you."_

_Magnus glares at him for a moment, before they both break into laughter. Ragnor takes a sip of wine, and chokes on it when he's overcome by laughter again._

_Magnus pats his back - gently, because he's still got battered ribs - while he snickers, because, really,_ karma _, and Ragnor waves him off._

_"What are you doing to my husband?" Raphael demands from the kitchen, where he and Catarina are putting things in the dishwasher. "If you've damaged him, Bane, I'm personally going to sabotage every nail varnish and beauty kit you own."_

_Magnus gasps. "Raphael!"_

_"Relax, Raph," Ragnor calls out to him. "I'm not delicate."_

_Raphael mutters something under his breath. Catarina smacks him for it._

_"Really," Ragnor says, the teasing gone from his face. "Are you alright?"_

_Magnus shrugs. "I'll be fine."_

_"Yes, I'm sure you will be. But that doesn't mean you're not hurting now."_

_Magnus exhales. What can he say? It hurts. He hurts. He'd asked Camille out on Christmas Day two years ago. And now, two days before their two year anniversary, he comes home to find her cheating on him—and, he would guess, not for the first time._

_"Did she ever love me?" he asks Ragnor. "Was I really that blind?"_

_"Not like you loved her, I don't think," Ragnor says. "You love with every part of you. Camille...Camille loves differently. But you couldn't see it, because you loved her in a way that made you blind to her faults. And that wasn't your fault," Ragnor adds, before Magnus can say anything. "She manipulated you. She played you. Don't you dare go blaming yourself for this."_

_Magnus is quiet for a moment. Then: "Do I trust people too much?"_

_Ragnor chuckles. "No, my friend. You just dated the most cruel woman on the face of the earth. This disaster doesn't make you unlovable. It certainly doesn't mean you should stop loving. A world that lost the love you have to offer would be a sorry one."_

_But something in Magnus can't help but feel like some of this has to be his fault. If only he'd noticed. If only he'd realised sooner. If only he'd listened to everything his friends kept telling him. If only he'd done better, been smarter, been more careful, this heartbreak might have been averted._

_And so, quite without his permission, a wall is erected around his still-mangled heart._

***

"Love Actually!" Isabelle shouts, trying to reach across Simon from where she's sitting half in Clary's lap to Jace, who's wielding the remote. "We have to watch Love Actually!"

"That's so boring," Jace says, holding it up out of her reach. "Home Alone is way better."

"We watched that last week," Izzy says.

"Well, it's not my fault you and your girlfriend watched the wrong Christmas movie."

"Jace, I swear to god—"

"You swear to me? That's very flattering, Izzy, really."

" _Jace_ , for fuck's sake, I'm going to stab you in the eye with my heel in a second."

"You're not even wearing any heels."

"No, but—"

"Oh my god!" Alec shouts, snatching the remote from Jace's flailing hands. "How old are you two?"

"Twenty?" Jace offers. "How old are you, Iz? Remind me? Thirty-four?"

She snarls. "Oh, for the love of—"

"Shut up," Alec says shortly. "We're watching Love Actually, because Hugh Grant is pretty. End of discussion."

Magnus is curled on a sofa next to Max, who's been sleeping for the last hour or so, clearly exhausted by the day's festivities, opposite where the fight between the siblings is currently occurring. Alec had been beside him, looking incredibly snuggly in his Christmas sweater, until he'd stood up to intervene in the war waging across the room.

He perks up at Alec's comment. Because, yes, okay, Hugh Grant _is_ pretty (or, at least, he is in Love Actually—Magnus isn't a fan of his current middle-aged-smoker look), and there's not really much point in denying it. But, apparently, Alec thinks so too.

Alec thinks Hugh Grant is pretty.

Which, by extension, suggests that he thinks... _men_ are pretty.

"Magnus?" Max asks in an inquiring sort of voice that immediately puts Magnus on the defensive, because children are always far too perceptive, and he really, really hopes that his thoughts didn't just show on his face. Not that he knows what the realisation that Alexander is attracted to men would look like.

"Yes?" Magnus looks down at Max, who's blinking sleep from his eyes, tearing his own eyes away from Alec.

"Why do you keep staring at Alec?"

 _Fuck_.

"I don't," Magnus tells him, hoping that will end the conversation, while Simon is loudly telling Jace that he doesn't celebrate Christmas because he's Jewish, and that he's only here for the food, to which Jace appears mildly offended.

"You do," Max counters. "Like just then, and at lunch, and when Alec gave Izzy her present earlier and she really liked it..." Max trails off. "Wait! Did Alec buy the necklace from your shop?"

"He did," Magnus says, and feels himself flush a little, although he's fairly sure it's not visible. "That was the first time we met."

"Oh," Max says, a smile on his face.

"What?" Magnus demands, because he doesn't like that too-knowing look at all. Especially not from a child of nine. "What?"

"Nothing," Max sings, and turns towards the TV as the credits roll, and Alec drops the remote on Jace's lap, shaking his head at his siblings.

"What?" Magnus asks again. "Max Lightwood, tell me."

"Nope!" Max grins at him. "Shh, Magnus, watch the movie."

Magnus huffs, draws his socked feet up onto the sofa, and crosses his arms. This is all very unfair. He's being outwitted and insulted by a nine-year-old on Christmas Day.

"Why are you pouting?" a low voice asks, as the sofa dips beside him.

"Your brother is being mean," Magnus says, loud enough for Max to hear.

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"Am not."

"You—"

"Magnus." Alec is laughing, mirth in his eyes. "Are you reverting to a kid, too? I've just had to break up my siblings battling over a movie."

Magnus juts his lower lip. "You Lightwoods are all rude."

Alec laughs again as Robert stands up to turn the lights off, and he kisses Magnus' cheek, so briefly Magnus is almost certain he imagined it. When he glances back over his shoulder at Alec, his eyes are fixed on the TV screen, no hint of _anything_  unusual on his face. Not even a slight flush of embarrassment.

Fuck the Lightwoods. Especially the pretty one.

***

_Climbing into bed at the end of the day is cold._

_Raphael insisted Ragnor return home for the night, and Catarina has an early shift in the morning, so Magnus is alone in his apartment._

_It's lonely. Achingly so. He wraps his arms around himself, under his thick winter duvet, and a shiver runs down his spine, goosebumps rising across his skin. He's not...cold. Not exactly. His apartment just feels unwelcoming. Empty. Lifeless. After a full day of warm food and mulled wine, laughter and teasing, in the company of friends who've become his closest family, the contrast is stark._

_He swallows, pushing thoughts of blonde hair and piercing eyes out of his mind. He burrows deeper into his bed, pushing his head into his pillow and drawing his duvet up to his jaw._

_Screwing his eyes shut, he hauls in a deep breath, and wills every demon in his head to disappear._

_Because there's nobody here to help, anymore. There's no steady, vital body sleeping beside him. There's nobody to look across at, to help settle his thoughts. He can't calm his racing heart by curling against another person._

_Camille is gone._

_And even if she was hardly the best person to pour his heart out to - he realises now - and even if she'd never been sincere in her sympathies, she was, at least, an anchor. An unsteady, wavering anchor—but an anchor nonetheless._

_So, fists clenched, Magnus drifts into a fitful sleep, alone with his terrors on Christmas night._

***

It's late, by the time Magnus decides he had really better leave the Lightwoods to their evening family festivities. He's intruded for long enough. Although he's felt entirely welcomed, and nowhere near as out of place as he'd expected to.

"We have a spare room," Maryse says, when Magnus voices his considerations. "You don't have to go. You're welcome to stay the night. Or I'm sure Alec can make room for you."

" _Mom_ ," Alec hisses, much to Isabelle and Jace's amusement.

"What?" Maryse arches an eyebrow. "Jace and Simon are sharing."

Simon swallows visibly. "Are we?"

"Shut up," Jace says, kicking him in the shin, "and don't mess up my things, and there won't be a problem."

"No, really," Magnus says, while his heart warms a little at the hospitality being extended to him. "I should go."

"Why?" Max asks. Demands, really. He looks mildly offended at Magnus' suggestion that he go home. Magnus is flattered. "You can stay."

Magnus smiles at the youngest Lightwood, and taps his nose. Max squints adorably, and Magnus feels himself giving his heart over to the boy. Children always have that effect on him.

"Because," Magnus says, "my cat will be lonely."

"You have a cat?" Max brightens visibly.

So he spends several minutes showing Max photos of the Chairman, until the boy is yawning again, and the Lightwoods are all watching him with a distinct degree of wariness. Max's battle with cancer isn't immediately obvious—his hair is clipped short, so Magnus wouldn't have noticed the hair loss from chemotherapy had he not known to expect it, and he looks a little... _sick_ , but he doesn't look like he's got something that could kill him.

It is, however, very obvious that he gets tired quickly.

"Come on," Alec says eventually, voice gentle as he smiles down at his brother. "Let's let Magnus go home, hm, Max?"

"Alec," Max whines.

Alec rolls his eyes, and swoops Max up into his arms, to only mild protest from his brother.

Magnus takes the hint. He says his goodbyes to the rest of the Lightwoods, and Clary and Simon, then follows Alec and Max to the front door.

"Will you come again?" Max asks, holding onto Alec sleepily, blinking up at Magnus.

Magnus' heart melts.

"You'll have to ask your brother," Magnus says, glancing at Alec.

"I'm sure Magnus can come and see you, sometime," Alec tells Max, but his eyes don't stray from Magnus'.

Magnus' mouth goes dry, and he has to swallow before he suffocates under the unblinking gaze of Alec Lightwood, still lit up all over by the feeling of Christmas and a day of unadulterated cheer and enjoyment and familial love.

Isabelle appears, suddenly. She offers Magnus a smile, the necklace Alec bought for her glimmering around her throat, and reaches out to take Max.

"Goodbye, Magnus," Max says, solemnly. "I hope you come back. I like you."

"Goodbye, Max," Magnus replies, with a grin. "Merry Christmas."

With one last wave, Max and Isabelle disappear up the stairs, and Magnus is left standing on the threshold of the Lightwood family home, opposite Alexander, trying to find the words to say goodbye.

Which is ridiculous, really, because Alec is only ever going to be a phone call away. But somehow, things just feel...different, today. Maybe because it's Christmas, or maybe because Alec kissed his cheek, or maybe because he got confirmation that Alec is attracted to men, Magnus doesn't know.

"Goodnight, then, Alexander," Magnus says, softly, as the cold from outside begins to seep into the cozy warmth of the house. "I'll see you...soon, I hope."

"Yeah." Alec smiles. "Goodnight, Magnus."

Magnus holds his gaze for a moment longer, heart swelling in his chest, and _fuck, just how gone is he for this beautiful man?_ and then he turns, crossing over onto the porch to head out to his car and back home.

But before he can take more than a step, fingers grasp at the arm of his jacket, and a soft voice says, "Wait."

Magnus blinks as he looks back, and finds Alec close to him, lips parted, licking at his lower one nervously.

"Alec?" Magnus asks, breath billowing out and condensing in a soft cloud in the cold night air around them.

Alec looks uncertain, eyes flickering around Magnus' face. He opens his mouth, clearly about to say something, but closes it abruptly. Instead, he steps outside onto the porch, so he's facing Magnus straight-on in the crisp winter night, snow and stars and darkness to their left, a crackling fire and baubles and laughter to their right.

Alec lifts a hand, and his index finger slips under Magnus' chin, angling his head up a little and taking half a step closer; there's a moment - just a moment - when Magnus' breath hitches, and his heart stutters, and warm breath ghosts across his lips like a lover's caress.

And then Alec's lips are on his.

It's slow, lips folding together and heat diffusing through them from every point at which they touch. It's quiet and unhurried, Magnus' boots crunching on the fine layer of snow that's blown onto the porch as he leans into it. It's tender and gentle, as Alec's hand slips from Magnus' chin to his jawline, cupping his face like he's made of diamond — strong, not delicate, but to be revered, to be treasured, to be careful with, not for fear of damage, but out of deep-sated respect.

It's soft, and so _good_  that Magnus' chest feels too constricting to properly contain his heart and lungs, as they're saturated with warm and feeling, dripping with emotion Magnus hasn't felt in so, so long.

It's Christmas, and it's a beautiful boy with enchanting eyes and an enormous heart, and it's Alec, it's Alexander, it's warm hands on cold skin, and lips giving under lips, and fingers pressing closer, and closer, because _god_ , it's just _this_ , here, and now, and them.

Alec's breath leaves him in a soft exhale as they part, foreheads resting together. Their arms around around each other, and the backs of Alec's fingers brush down the length of where he'd been holding Magnus' face.

When Magnus lets his eyes flutter open, Alec is watching him, smile overflowing with beauty brighter than a thousand sunrises.

"You're so beautiful," Alec whispers, cheeks rosy, and Magnus doesn't know whether it's from the cold, or the kiss, or the way they're wrapped together, or all three. And he doesn't care. Because god, Alec is gorgeous, and that flush is entrancing.

Magnus covers the hand brushing his face, and leans his cheek into Alec's palm. "As are you, my darling."

They're quiet for a moment. It's snowing again, softly, the wind just strong enough to blow flakes of white under the veranda to settle in their hair and across their shoulders. Magnus reaches up to brush the snow out of Alec's hair; Alec's eyelids flutter.

"Thank you," Magnus whispers. "For this. For today."

Alec shakes his head, and presses his lips to Magnus' cheekbone, so softly Magnus feels his heart breaking.

"Merry Christmas, Magnus," is all he says.

Magnus smiles, soft and wide and bright, and whispers, "Merry Christmas, Alexander."

As he feels the stirrings of feelings too overwhelming to examine right now, and sees the unrestrained adoration shining in Alec's eyes as he gazes down at him, Magnus thinks that maybe, after all the pain and the heartache of the last two years, maybe he's finally found someone who fits. Maybe he's finally found someone who'll love him, as he'll love them. Maybe he's finally found someone whom his friends will like, and respect.

Maybe he's finally found his someone special.

And maybe that someone special is the beautiful, awe-inspiring man standing right in front of him.

*******

**Last Christmas, I gave you my heart  
But the very next day, you gave it away  
This year, to save me from tears  
I'll give it to someone special (special)**

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! Made it! 
> 
> So: 
> 
> 1) Max Lightwood kicks cancer's ass  
> 2) Magnus and Alec are totally in love by Valentine's Day, and Jace is sickened  
> 3) All of Magnus' friends love Alec. They have fun telling horribly embarrassing stories. Alec loves them just as much
> 
> It's possible I'm going to upload a second part to this. I'm thinking about it. Not necessarily a sequel, but something about Jace and Simon, maybe...
> 
> Yeah. Anyway. I'm thinking about it.
> 
> HOWEVER, I will definitely be uploading more Christmas fics, and I'll be sticking them all in a 2016 Christmas series. 
> 
> <3<3<3


End file.
